


macarons are not traditionally considered a holiday treat

by Waddles889



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Candlenights, Everyone Loves Angus McDonald, Feel-good, Fluff, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Light Angst, anyway it's mostly fluff, nothing explicit but i thought i'd tag it just in case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:08:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28222188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waddles889/pseuds/Waddles889
Summary: Candlenights in the McDonald household was an extravagant affair. Angus hated it.ORA look at Angus's Candlenights over the years.
Relationships: Angus McDonald & Everyone, Angus McDonald & Taako
Comments: 14
Kudos: 100





	macarons are not traditionally considered a holiday treat

**Author's Note:**

> i love angus mcdonald with all my heart

Candlenights in the McDonald household was an extravagant affair.

Every year, the McDonald family hosted a grand party that lasted from sunset to whenever people left, which tended to be around one in the morning (possibly later), and given that the sun set at around four in the afternoon in the winter, that was a solid nine hours of partying.

Decorations like no one had ever seen filled the ballroom that had been reserved months in advance: sparkling fairy lights stretched across the walls, glittering chandeliers dangled with real, magically preserved icicles, Candlenights bushes sat on every table complete with genuine crystal decorations, enormous amounts of food and champagne beckoned from the buffets, music supplied by the most famous orchestra in Neverwinter drifted through the hall, and, of course, expensive candles covered nearly every surface in the room. It was the most anticipated event of the season.

Angus hated it.

His father had grabbed him from where he’d been sitting alone at a table to parade him around in front of all his high society friends, keeping a hand on his shoulder.

“Oh, isn’t he just darling,” one woman cooed. Angus smiled politely, his insides boiling.

“He’s a cute little thing, isn’t he. How old did you say he was?”

“I’m eight,” Angus said. His father’s grip on his shoulder tightened. Speaking out of turn.

“He’ll be moving into the ninth year in school this coming fall,” his father said. “We expected it, of course. McDonalds always end up skipping a few grades.”

Angus nodded. The woman from before sighed. “And I heard you like reading, Angus, is that correct?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“What kinds of things do you read? My niece loves those kid cop books, Chris Connecticut, have you heard of them?”

A grin spread across Angus’s face. “Caleb Cleveland? Yes, I like those-” His father squeezed his shoulder even tighter and Angus shut his mouth with a snap.

“Our boy reads the classics. Why, for his last birthday he asked for the complete works of fantasy William Shakespeare.” He turned his gaze to Angus. “Why don’t you go find your mother? I’m sure her friends would love to meet you.”

Angus nodded and excused himself from the conversation as fast as he could and did  _ not _ go find his mother. He wasn’t in the mood to meet any more people who would fawn over him. He was an eight year old boy, not a dog.

It was nearing nine o’clock, meaning that one of their staff would collect him and take him home for the night in about an hour or so, but that meant he had to avoid his mother for an entire hour, which was  _ not _ an easy feat. That woman was like a bloodhound.

Angus found himself near one of the buffet tables, which was so crowded it would be easy to hide. Besides, he wasn’t really allowed to eat sweets, and this was his only chance to try some of the dishes without getting yelled at.

And if he  _ did _ get caught…. well, he was already in trouble for speaking out of turn, and was  _ also _ probably in trouble for saying he read kid’s books. How much worse could it get?

Angus rubbed his arm and grimaced, decidedly  _ not _ thinking about exactly how much worse it could get.

Instead, he turned his attention back to the sweets in front of him. It seemed like the spread got more and more ridiculous every year. He had no idea what half of the dishes were even called. 

At the end of the table, there was a display of macarons in an array of colors. Angus wasn’t sure what all the flavors were, so he grabbed one that looked like chocolate just to be safe.

It was maybe the best thing he’d ever tasted.

A quick glance at his surroundings revealed no one was watching him, so he took one and slipped it into his pocket. If he could keep it hidden long enough, he could eat it to dull the shame of getting yelled at later tonight. If he was discovered… well, he’d just have to keep that from happening. He was getting better at hiding stuff now, as evidenced by the jar of cashews he’d kept in a panel in the wall at the back of his closet for two weeks now. If there was one thing he’d learned from all his Caleb Cleveland books, it was that a good detective was always prepared, and it was hard to be on alert if he was hungry after being sent to his room without dinner.

Maybe he’d get lucky and that’s all that would happen to him for the next week.

Angus found himself trapped in a conversation with an extremely dull man who didn’t know how to wrap up a story in less than thirty minutes, which gave him the perfect excuse to not find his mother. Eventually, the hour was up and he was dragged out to the coach that would take him home.

The second he entered the house, Angus raced up to his room and hid the macaron in his closet.

His parents arrived back at the house at two in the morning, likely drunk. Angus extinguished the candle by his bed, tucked his Caleb Cleveland novel under his pillow, and feigned sleep until his parents’ footsteps vanished down the hall. 

Angus slid out of bed, grabbed his candle, and crept across the carpeted floor to his closet. The door creaked as he swung it open and he froze, not daring to breathe.

No one came down the hall to investigate, so he slipped inside, pried the panel from the wall, and rescued his macaron. It was a little cold to the touch, but as long as it hadn’t become crunchy, it should be fine.

Angus slid down the wall and set his candle down next to him. He wondered…

“Produce flame,” he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. He willed a spark to appear over his palm, providing soft orange light and radiating heat. A tingle spread across his hand.

Angus’s eyes flew open, a smile tugging at his lips.

He was greeted with darkness.

Angus sighed and struck a match.

The macaron was perfect. It almost succeeded in distracting him from what his father would say tomorrow.

* * *

At nine years old, it was a little difficult to get a hotel room by himself. The good news was that everyone felt a little more generous once Candlenights rolled around, and if Angus played up the whole being nine thing, he could probably convince the owner to let him at least stay in the building for the night. He just had to hope he was far enough away from Neverwinter that no one would recognize him.

The inn he chose was a combination inn and tavern in a small seaside village. If anyone  _ did _ recognize him, they might not want to travel that far anyway. A couple half-hearted Candlenights garlands hung from the rafters, illuminated by a few half-melted candles. It was empty, save for the owner, who was polishing a glass.

Angus stood on his toes and slid a single coin across the bar. “Do you have any rooms left?”

The owner raised her eyebrows and draped her washcloth over her shoulder. “Hey, kid. What’re you doing?”

“I’m trying to get a room, ma’am.”

“I… where are your parents?”

“Don’t have any.”

The owner sighed and set the cup down. She rested her elbows on the bar. “You’re an orphan?”

Angus nodded.

She picked up the coin, looked at it, and set it back down. “Keep the gold, kid. I’ll set you up in the back. If I turned away an orphan on Candlenights, my mother would raise herself from the dead and kill me herself.” She pushed herself back into a standing position and headed for the back room.

Angus pocketed his coin and smiled. “Thanks, ma’am! I appreciate it.”

“And stop calling me that. Name’s Nancy.” She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Guessin’ you’re not keen on tellin’ me your name, huh?”

“You can call me Caleb, ma’am.”

“I just said- whatever.” Nancy unlocked the door and gestured for Angus to step inside. “This is you.”

The room was small and very obviously lived in. The bed was hastily made, a few outfits poked out of the drawers, and a well-worn copy of a cookbook sat on the nightstand. Angus nodded again and set his backpack on the bed. 

“I’ll be out here if you need anything.”

Nancy shut the door behind her.

The morning came quicker than Angus expected. He slid out of bed as quietly as he could, checked his hair in the mirror, and pulled his shoes on before exiting the room.

He was greeted with the scent of baked goods drifting from the kitchen. Nancy backed through the kitchen door holding two pans of cookies, which she set down on the table. She caught sight of Angus and smiled.

“Hey, Caleb, how are ya? Didn’t expect you up so early.”

Angus shrugged, shouldering his backpack. “I’m used to waking up early, ma’am.”

“Thought I told you to stop with the ma’am thing,” Nancy said. She plucked a cookie -a macaron- off one of the trays and held it out to him. “These just finished cooling.”

Angus stared at her blankly.

“Come on, I don’t exactly have anyone else to test these on. No one’s drinking in a tavern on such a fine Candlenights morning.”

Angus accepted the cookie with a soft smile. “Thanks ma- uh, Nancy.” 

It wasn’t a flavor that he was familiar with, but it was  _ good. _ Dare he say…  _ better _ than the one he snuck last year? The texture wasn’t  _ quite _ there, but it was still one of the best things he’d ever tasted.

“This is really good, Nancy!”

A grin broke across her face. “Hey, thanks! I’ve been wanting to try that recipe for a while now. I’ve had that cookbook for I don’t know how long, but never got the chance to try macarons until now.” She bit into a cookie of her own. “I wonder what happened to that author…” she added, as an afterthought.

Nancy clapped her hands together and started towards the kitchen. “I’ve got some more in the oven I should check on. Hey, uh,” she said, faltering in her stride. She leaned into the kitchen and grabbed something off the counter: a folded flyer, damp from the snow. She slid it across the table to Angus.

He didn’t need to look at it to know what it was, but unfolded it anyway.

His own face stared back up at him, accompanied by bold letters spelling “MISSING” across the top.

“You’re not an orphan, are you?”

Angus folded the flyer and set it down on the table. “No, ma’am.”

“Well, I won’t tell anyone you’re here if you don’t want, but if you’re from Neverwinter and they’re looking for you out here, they’re probably pretty desperate to get you back, kiddo.”

“That’s the problem,” Angus murmured. 

“I just thought I’d give you a heads up, in case you wanted to get out of here before anyone comes asking. I’ve got a back door if you want to use that.”

Angus nodded. “Thanks for the cookie, ma’am, and your hospitality. Happy Candlenights.”

Nancy handed him another macaron. “Parting gift,” she said. “Stay safe.”

“Thanks.”

Angus slipped out through the back door and into the cold, keeping his head down the whole way to the train station.

* * *

It was Candlenights on the moon base, and Angus didn’t know what to expect.

No one had asked him if he was spending Candlenights with his family, and he intended to keep it that way. There was also the fact that he was a little boy who had been hired by a secret organization and was living on a secret moon base by himself, which probably contributed to the subject being avoided. 

The issue was that he was fairly sure there was a party going on, and he didn’t know what to do about it.

The problems as he saw them:

  1. He didn’t know how many presents he needed to get for everyone.
  2. He didn’t know what the dress code was.
  3. He didn’t know if he was even invited.



He also didn’t know if he would even like going to a Candlenights party, given that the only frame of reference he had for parties were fucking boring. He might not end up going anyway.

As it turned out Angus  _ wasn’t _ invited, but it was being thrown in the Reclaimers’ suite and  _ everyone _ was going to be there, so if he showed up, who would even notice?

Besides, he was the world’s  _ greatest _ detective. They didn’t seriously expect him to  _ not _ find out about it, did they?

Okay, he changed his mind. Angus was  _ definitely _ going now, just to prove that they couldn’t pull a fast one on the world’s greatest detective.

He eventually decided on bringing presents for the people he talked to the most instead of  _ everyone. _ It would be difficult to pick out a Caleb Cleveland book specifically tailored to everyone’s personality and interests if he didn’t know anything about them (not to mention incredibly expensive. He was investing in  _ hardcover _ copies).

That’s how Angus found himself knocking on the door of the Reclaimers’ suite, uninvited.

Luckily, it was Carey who opened the door.

“Hey, lil dude! You made it! I fucking knew Taako wouldn’t be able to keep you from getting here. ‘Sides, Magnus totally wants you here. Don’t know about Merle, but he’s Merle.”

Angus eyed the glass of champagne in her hand warily and nodded, plastering a smile across his face. He hoped it wasn’t a mistake coming here.

“Oh, Miss Carey-” he started, reaching into his bag.

“Drop the ‘Miss Carey’ bullshit, Ango, it’s Candlenights. No formality required. Formality discouraged.”

“-I got you a present,” Angus finished, holding out a carefully wrapped copy of  _ Caleb Cleveland: Kid Cop and the Rogue’s Riddle. _ Carey’s eyes lit up. 

“No way, you’re so much better at wrapping stuff than I am. Oh, I have something for you, too.”

Angus’s mouth dropped open. “Huh?”

“There you go,” Carey said, dropping a lockpick set (tied together with a gold ribbon) into his hands, “one step closer to getting you to join the rogue class. Rogues make good detectives, y’know.”

“You’ve said.” Angus stares at the lockpicks, dumbfounded. He hadn’t expected anyone to give  _ him _ a present.

“Anyway, don’t let me keep you on the doorstep. Taako would be happy to see ya. Magnus, too. Can’t speak for Merle, really. He’s an enigma.”

Angus tucked the lockpick set into a pocket in his bag. “Thanks, Miss Carey!” he said, disappearing further into the party.

“Formality discouraged!” she called after him.

Angus found Killian, Johann, Davenport, and the Director next. He’d tackle the Reclaimers last.

For Killian, he’d picked the most action packed novel in the series. For Johann, he’d picked one called  _ The Case of the Piano Puzzle. _ For the Director, he’d picked one about a journalist (he’d seen her writing a lot, so it seemed like a safe bet). He didn’t really know what to do for Davenport, so he’d just picked one of his own favorites for him.

The Director smiled at the gift, but was hesitant to take it.

“I’m like, the boss, Angus,” she said. “If I participate in the gift exchange, it’d be weird.”

“It doesn’t have to be an exchange, Madam Director,” Angus insisted. “I wasn’t expecting to get anything anyway.”

The Director frowned at that. “Really?”

Fuck. Time to backtrack.

“Well, I haven’t really worked here for very long,” he said. “And you know the Reclaimers.”

That got a laugh. “Yes,  __ I do. Hey, why don’t you go check up on them? I’m sure they’d love to see you.”

The incredulous look he gave her got another laugh.

It didn’t go  _ quite _ as terribly as he’d expected it to. Merle tried to regift some stuff, but Magnus promised not to play keepaway with his belongings! And then Taako had thrown a cookie at him, and overall, it was pretty okay.

The rest of the party was okay too, up until the Director found out Lucas was using a Grand Relic, and then it was pretty shitty.

~~~

The clock approached three in the morning. Angus fought back a yawn.

“If you want to turn in for the night, Angus, you can. You’ve done a remarkable job tonight,” the Director said.

Angus shook his head profusely. “I want to make sure they get back okay.”

“I can get you when they return.”

“No thanks, ma’am. I want to stay.” Angus rubbed his eyes and blinked, hard. “Besides, I’m not  _ that _ tired.”

He was, in fact,  _ very _ tired, but he wasn’t going to bed without knowing  _ for sure _ that the Reclaimers were okay. 

It was another hour or so before the Director’s stone of farspeech crackled to life. Everyone in the room jumped.

“Come in! Taako! Merle! Magnus! What’s- what’s going on? Carey, tell me, situation report! Have you secured the Philosopher’s-”

“Go for Magnus!”

Angus sighed in relief.

“Have you secured the Philosopher’s Stone?”

Angus wasn’t sure what the hell was happening for half of that conversation. It sounded like Magnus had maybe eaten the Relic? And Lucas died? And they made a robot friend? Maybe Angus was hallucinating from staying up so late, but based on his own experience with the Reclaimers’ missions, they might’ve just had a buckwild ride. Anyway, the main takeaway was that they were all  _ safe _ and okay.

Angus slumped down in his chair and rubbed his eyes under his glasses, and was decidedly  _ not _ crying. 

The Reclaimers came back thirty minutes later, and Merle was missing an arm, but they were all okay and they  _ did _ bring a robot back and they did their signature goofs messing with Angus and it was honestly one of the better Candlenights he’d had.

That night, he ate Taako’s macaron (easily the best he’d had out of the two others he’d tried in his life) next to his Candlenights shrub. It was the same flavor as the one he’d gotten from Nancy- elderflower, Taako had said. There was something there that was scratching at the detective itch in his brain, but he was too tired to think too hard about it, barely able to keep his eyes open. 

And then the next day, Taako had pulled him aside and offered with practiced nonchalance to teach him magic. 

It was a definite improvement on the Candlenights experience.

* * *

Candlenights in the Taaco-Bluejeans household was an extravagant affair. 

Everyone who could fit in the house was there: every former Bureau member, every member of the Starblaster crew, all the dogs Taako would allow Magnus to bring, everyone’s family members, multiple citizens of Refuge, and countless other individuals the Reclaimers had met on their missions. Taako even let Lucretia come (as long as she didn’t spend more than three hours in the same room as him). 

The food was like no one could even imagine- which, of course it was. It was Taako and Lup’s party, after all. The decorations covered every square inch of the house: garlands, candles, Candlenights bushes, mistletoe, fake snow. It was extremely tacky and extremely tasteful all at once. It was the most anticipated event of the season.

Angus loved it.

Currently, he found himself explaining the events of his most recent case (one he called “the case of the crooked dagger”) in great detail. Originally, he’d started off only telling Carey and Davenport, but then Magnus heard and then it was only a matter of time until Angus was standing on the couch, surrounded by a circle of party guests who listened with rapt attention.

“I heard footsteps approaching the room, but I was on the second floor and there was no other exit, so my only other option was to jump out the window.”

“Ango, you did  _ not,” _ Killian gasped.

“Yeah, so I jumped out the window with all the files. It was a heat of the moment decision, but it paid off, because I landed in a tree and was able to make it out of the garden undetected.”

Taako pushed through the crowd and grabbed Angus’s arm. “Wrap it up, pumpkin, I need you in the kitchen.”

Magnus huffed, crossing his arms. “After a hundred and thirteen years, you  _ still _ don’t trust me in the kitchen, but  _ Angus _ is allowed?”

_ “Angus _ doesn’t burn  _ spaghetti,” _ Taako shot back. “And a hundred and thirteen is generous. We weren’t even around each other for the first twelve years of this plane.”

“The sentiment still stands.”

“And so does the rule.”

Magnus stuck his tongue out at Taako. 

“Okay, so basically after I stole the files, I figured out he’d been lying about his alibi the whole time and I managed to catch him on his way to another robbery and then I arrested him and I’ll tell the details of that later, okay bye!” Angus said, hopping off the couch and following Taako into the kitchen.

Taako handed him a bag full of macaron batter. Elderflower.

Angus grinned and clambered up onto a stool to pipe the macarons onto the cookie sheet while Taako slipped an apron (matching his own) over Angus’s head. He ruffled his hair, knocking his cap askew. Angus swatted his arm away.

It was shockingly domestic.

“How’re you holding up, bubbeleh?” Taako said, pointedly not looking at Angus as he filled piping bags with macaron filling.

“I’m doing well, sir! I didn’t know you could fit so many people in your house.” He leaned back, pursing his lips. “I hope it’s not a fire hazard.”

“Eh, who cares about that? Lup’s an evocation expert, she can handle any accidental fires.”

Angus snorted. Taako smiled.

“It’s really different from the Candlenights parties my parents had. Those fucking sucked.”

Taako barked out a laugh at Angus’s grim expression. “That bad, huh?”

“I didn’t get to do anything fun and everyone was rich and boring and I was just there to show how good of a job my parents were doing at raising me.”

_ “Oof,”  _ Taako said. “That  _ does _ fucking suck. I hope I’m better at parties than that.”

“Oh, one hundred percent, sir.” Angus put the piping bag down and handed the tray to Taako, who tapped it on the counter and set it aside. He pulled another tray of macarons out of the oven and handed Angus the bag of icing.

Out in the living room, something shattered. Angus winced. “I hope your house survives this party, sir.”

Taako waved a hand dismissively. “I’m famous. Whatever they broke, I’ll replace later. Who’s gonna say no to Taako?”

“Anyone with sense, sir.”

“Hey!”

Angus giggled, dodging Taako’s smack. He began assembling the cookies and handing the finished macarons to Taako, who arranged them on a serving plate.

“Why do you keep calling it my house?” Taako said.

Angus furrowed his brow, glancing up from his icing. “What?”

“You keep calling it  _ my _ house. You live here too, y’know.”

“Oh. Um. I don’t know.”

Angus looked away, staring very intently at the macaron he just assembled. “It’s not  _ official _ or anything.”

Taako tapped his fingers on the counter, lips pursed. He sighed, steeling himself for… something.

“Why don’t we make it official, mijo?”

The cookie slipped from Angus’s grip.

“What?”

Taako tapped his fingers faster, not meeting Angus’s eyes. His ears flattened against the side of his head. “I mean- you’re basically, uh. Well, you’re my magic apprentice and everything and you’ve been staying with Lup and Barry and Krav and me since, uh, since the, you know, the day of-”

“-Sir, I don’t- what are you-”

“-I had a whole thing planned out, Maggie made a whole sign for your door and I was gonna give you the papers as your present, but you keep calling it my house and I wasn’t sure-”

“-Are you going to  _ adopt me?” _

Taako snapped his mouth shut. Angus fully turned around, cookies forgotten, eyes wide. Then, slowly, Taako nodded.

“If that’s okay with you.”

A grin tugged at Angus’s mouth. A laugh bubbled its way out of his chest, his eyes brimming with tears. Unable to find the right words, he pressed his lips together in a smile and nodded. He jumped down from his step stool and flung his arms around Taako’s waist in a bone-crushing hug, which Taako gingerly returned.

Taako sighed in relief, then grimaced. “Damn it, I fucking blew the reveal. I seriously  _ did _ have a whole thing planned out, it was gonna be the coolest fucking adoption  _ ever, _ natch.”

“We can still do the thing,” Angus said, voice muffled by Taako’s apron. Taako laughed.

“We fuckin’ better, I spent a lot of time preparing everyone for it.”

Angus giggled. “Should I bust out my acting skills?”

“You  _ fuckin’ better.” _

The “thing” ended up being a whole production. Taako interrupted the gift exchange to call attention to his “beautiful magic boy”. He launched into what must’ve been a speech someone (Lucretia) initially prepared for him, but quickly devolved into a Taako Original™, culminating in the reveal of the adoption papers themselves, which were in a manilla folder that had been wrapped in silver wrapping paper dotted with little magnifying glasses. 

Lup and Barry presented Angus with their own gifts: from Lup, a shirt that said “my aunt is a bad influence” where she had crossed out the word bad and written “cool” in sharpie, and from Barry, a denim lunchbox which Taako smacked out of Angus’s hands after yelling at Barry for corrupting his son.

Kravitz gave him a raven feather which acted as a direct line to him whenever Angus was in trouble. “No more trying to catch child sacrificing necromancers, Angus,” he said.

“No more  _ what?” _ Taako yelped.

“Don’t worry about it, sir!” Angus said.

“Angus, if you get murdered by necromancers, I swear to Pan-”

Then Magnus had scooped up Angus and carried him out of the room and he didn’t hear the rest of that particular threat.

Magnus carried him all the way upstairs and set him down in front of the room that had been acting as his temporary bedroom, but now-

There was a hand carved sign hanging on the door, designating it as  _ his _ room. 

Angus burst into tears.

“Oh fuck, did I fuck up?” Magnus said, dropping to his knees in front of Angus. His hands hovered over his shoulders, like he wasn’t sure if he should touch him.

Angus threw his arms around Magnus. “It’s  _ perfect, _ thank you sir! There’s just- so much- it’s a lot.”

“Glad you like it, Ango.”

Magnus carried him back downstairs on his shoulders. Taako lifted him off of Magnus and nearly dropped him.

“Hachi machi, I am  _ not _ strong enough to hold you.”

Angus laughed and Taako stuck his tongue out at him. “Anyway, how’re ya feeling, pumpkin?”

“I- really good. Thank you, Taako.”

Taako placed his hand on his chest and gasped in mock surprise. “You didn’t call me sir! It’s a fucking miracle, everyone. A Candlenights miracle!”

Angus rolled his eyes and grabbed one of the macarons he’d assembled from the cookie tray on the coffee table. The ratio of filling to cookie wasn’t exactly proportional, the top cookie was bigger than the bottom one, and the entire thing was a little lopsided.

It was the best one he’d ever had.

**Author's Note:**

> ok it wasn't supposed to end with angus getting adopted but it just happened and yknow what? i'm not mad


End file.
